Sandcastles
by Rachel Does It
Summary: Torn between two. Who would you choose? The one that you love? Or the one that loves you? Decisions are the hardest things to make - especially when it is a choice between where you should be and where you want to be. (Zayn/OC)(Balor/OC)
1. Prologue

**March 9** **th,** **2017**

 **Orlando, FL**

"Are you nervous?" Her fingertips lightly traced the scar leftover from the surgery on his shoulder nearly seven months prior.

Lust gone, already taken care of, they lay together in her bed. In the aftermath of their evening spent together, she lay limp and spent on his sweaty chest. Her hair draped in damp ropes over his arm, and her head rose and fell with the powerful depth of his breathing.

He smoothed a possessive hand down her back, resting it for a moment in the spot he seemed to like at the small of her back. His fingers drew patterns there, lulling her mind, derailing all thought. "Not yet, but I'm sure that'll change before tomorrow night."

His light touch sent shivers rippling through her, despite the room's heat. "I wish I could be there to witness Finn Balor's triumphant return to the ring." she said, the words muffled by his chest and the fall of her heavy hair. With effort, she swished it to the side, freeing the dark strands from her mouth and using her fingers to untangle it from the chain she wore around her neck – a birthday gift from her husband. The silver giraffe pendant had twisted to the back and lay warm and heavy on her spine.

"So, come with me." His restless fingers continued their lines and curves.

She propped herself up, sweeping more hair out of the way to look at him. "How, may I ask, would I explain that to Rami?" She considered his beautiful blue eyes, waiting for his answer.

He gave her a half-smile and reached up to touch her cheek. "We would finally tell him the truth, together."

"Soon, Fergal." She nodded. "I promise." She bit her lip, a mischievous glint sparkling in her brown eyes. "But, right now," She ran her hand down the warm, hard length of his chest to belly and leaned in until their lips met. "I've a better idea."

"Mhm..." He grinned against her lips. "I think I might like this new idea of yours." He murmured before, in one smooth motion, taking her shoulders and rolling her onto her back – surprising a squeal out of Yara.

Wasting no time in situating himself between her legs, his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her ear. Yara closed her eyes, and relished the heat that spread down her neck to her belly as he ran his mouth down the side of her neck – pressing tingly little kisses to her soft skin. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and finally her ear. The rasp of his beard was as arousing as the hot trail blazed by his lips.

By the time he sought her lips again, she was breathing erratically and clinging to him as if she would collapse if she let go. He kissed her, his tongue staking bold possession of her mouth, and she was happy to be possessed.

Her stomach tightened as pleasure encompassed her body, warmth rushing between her legs at his every stroke. Her body tensed from the building sensations, she felt like she was holding her breath. Every time she tried to moan, a strangled croak would come out of her, like this ecstasy caused her regular functions to cease.

"Yara?"

The two lovers were too engrossed in one another to have heard the bedroom door opening, but both heard her husband's strained voice – loud and clear.

In that instant, Yara forgot all about her prior euphoria, sitting up and shoving her husband's best friend off her body.

She felt physically ill at the sight of the ginger-haired man standing in the threshold – his bag still on his shoulder as he stood there, emotions running riot on his face as he processed the sight before him. Of course he'd seen her in numerous stages of undress during their eight years – four of them as a married couple – together, but the shame of her guilt made her feel self-conscious under his gaze.

She pulled the comforter up to cover her chest. "Rami, sweetheart, this isn't what it looks like…" It was an incredibly inane remark, but the only one her stunned brain could form - a lie, cliché at that.

"Oh?" Head cocked to the side, a humorless smile touched the corner of his mouth. "It looks like my best friend was nailing my wife – am I wrong?" He asked calmly, but with an undernote of anger trembling in his tone.

Her heart hurt to see the raw pain flash across his face, so she dropped her head into her hands. "God," She groaned. "You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow morning." Again, she felt stupid for her brain's ignorant response – as if it were any excuse? As if he was at fault? As if it were unreasonable for a man to surprise his wife at home and _not_ expect to find her in bed with another?

"After we got off the phone, I realized how much I missed you, so I bumped up my flight." He spoke slowly, almost apologetically. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Rami, brother, I'm sorry – neither of us wanted you to find out like this." Yara had forgotten that Fergal was still sitting next to her in the bed.

She shut her eyes, feeling the sting of tears pricking at the back of them. When she opened them, and lifted her face from her hands, Rami's eyes were still on her.

"This can't be happening." He mumbled, shaking his head in continued disbelief, his own eyes filling. "You are just playing a sick practical joke."

A deep _sadness_ rolled over his features as _his eyes met hers_. "Right?"


	2. What Happened to Perfect?

**August 25th, 2016**

With a bouquet of wildflowers bundled under his arm and his left hand carrying a gallon of orange Juice, Rami balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder. As his right hand fought with his keys and the front door, Rami tried to put his injured best friend's mind at ease. "Yara and I would both be thrilled to have you, and I know she'll enjoy having someone other than the cat to talk to when I'm on the road."

"You're sure Yara won't mind? I don't want to put you guys out." Fergal's hesitant voice came through the other end of the phone.

Rami cursed out loud realizing he had tried the wrong key. "No way." He went to the next key on the ring and slid it into the lock. "We're happy to help out, man, that's what friends are for." "Now, I don't want to hear another word about it – Yara can grab you from the airport when she drops me off in the morning. Now, get some rest, bud."

He finally turned the right key in the lock and swung the door open.

To his surprise, complete and total silence met him when he stepped over the threshold. Yara's keys were on the coffee table, but he was greeted only by Crowley, a black tuxedo cat Yara rescued from the shelter, meowing, and rubbing his head against his leg.

The quiet was strange – Yara almost always cranked Black Sabbath or Metallica when she was home.

"Yara! Sweetheart, I'm back from the gym!" He announced. "I got your OJ, as requested." He walked into the kitchen, but still the only sound was Crowley's bell as he followed underfoot.

He put the orange juice in the fridge and tossed his keys on the counter, noting a new, neat pile of mail on the counter. Setting the flowers down, he picked up the stack and rifled through it – just bills. Leaving those for Yara to deal with, he picked up the flowers and set off to locate his wife.

It didn't take him long to find her in the first place he looked – their bedroom.

The personification of beauty, there she was, sitting in the middle of their bed with her long, lean legs spread out in front of her, and her laptop opened on her lap. Behind her black rimmed glasses, her bronze eyes were focused intently on the screen. Through an open window, the Florida sun shone brightly and caressed her café brown skin, which seemed to glow even more against the stark whiteness of her white, cotton sundress. She bit her full, lower lip – so deep in concentration that she took no notice of her husband admiring her from the doorway. The thick sable waves of her hair piled messily atop her head, she played with a loose strand, twisting it around her finger.

After watching her for a few more moments, he walked over and plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Yara, honey, didn't you hear me calling?" He ran his hand up her leg, feeling the softness of her smooth skin.

She looked over the screen at him. "Oh, sorry, babe." She mumbled, distractedly, before turning her attention back to the computer screen. "I'm editing these pictures I took at the herbarium this morning."

Not the warmest of welcomes for her husband, but he knew better than to expect one from Yara when she was deep in her work. The same fulfillment he found in wrestling, she found in photography, and it had always taken a backseat to her support of his goals. It was only recently they'd found themselves in a place where she had the time to cultivate her own passion, and it mostly consumed her – spilling over and intruding on housekeeping, cooking, her time management, and their relationship.

"You went without me?" He asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I thought we were going together this evening?"

"I know, Ram, but the natural light is much better in the morning." She shrugged, eyes still on the monitor. "I couldn't wait, I'm sorry."

Chasing his dreams hadn't always allowed him to be the best boyfriend or husband, so he did his best to never take it personally. Still, it didn't change the fact that he was only able to see his wife one or two days a week, and was looking forward to spending that quality time with her.

"Well," He sighed, woefully. "I stopped and got these for you." Rami held up the bouquet he'd carried into the room with him.

It took her a few quiet minutes, but she finally tore her eyes away from her task. Spotting the flowers in her husband's hands, Yara's eyes lit up and her face was transformed by a radiant smile. It was a good thing he was already seated, because even after almost eight years together, her brilliant smile still made him weak in knees.

"Aww, honey..." She hastily closed her laptop and put it aside before sitting up on her knees. "You know these are my favorite." Grasping them with careful eagerness, she brought the bouquet to her face and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Don't forget the card..."

She sent him an arched brow before poking through the mass of blossoms to find the card he'd buried deep down in between the flowers. She pulled out the card and looked at the note he'd quickly scribbled in the car. " _All you need is love, all I love is you._ " She read softly, her cheeks blushing ever so lightly.

She looked at him with absolute love in her eyes and he would swear he felt his breath whoosh from his body – he adored her.

Just like her favorite flowers, she was a free spirit with a wild heart. Delicate, but strong and persistent – she was his wildflower.

"See, Ram, isn't this so much better than watching me snap pictures of some foliage?" Yara commented as the two of them sat on the beach, watching the sunset that evening. "I wish I'd brought my camera – isn't in the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

The sky was a fiery red with stunning cirrus clouds and the bay glowed like copper as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The gentle breeze blew through her hair and the warmth of her husband's body made her feel cozy.

She sat between his knees with his arms linked in front of her, nuzzling into the kisses he placed on her neck and her ear.

After eating dinner, it had been her idea to make the one hour drive from their apartment in Orlando to the beach – she felt bad for skipping out on him to visit the herbarium alone that morning. She never meant to blow him off, but it was easy for her excitement to get the better of her – especially when it came to photography. Also, though she would never admit it to him and hurt his feelings, he was away from home so much that it was also easy for her to forget when he was there.

Not that she didn't love when he was there, because she did. She reveled in these moments when she could almost forget they weren't a normal couple and she was the wife of a world traveling professional wrestler.

"It most certainly is." He whispered the words and kissed the top of her head.

Yara leaned her head back on his shoulder to get a better look at his face. "You're not even looking at the sunset." She wrinkled up her nose, then stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yes. I am." His brown eyes just looked at her face, with a small smile on his. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen is right here."

Yara couldn't help but smile back into his eyes – as long as he looked at her like that, she would be the happiest woman in the word. He looked at her as though she was something precious, treasured, and true. She wondered how he could still give her butterflies in her stomach, after all their years together?

"I love you." She kissed his neck, pressing her nose and lips against the flesh beneath his ear; she felt the bristling tickle of his beard against her cheek, and it sent a delightful arc of prickles through her.

"I love you, too, Yara." He returned the kiss against her forehead.

"Now, tell me what it is that you want."

He feigned shock, then his mouth fell open. "Can't a man just tell his wife that she is beautiful without ulterior motives?"

She just smirked and rolled her eyes. As if she didn't know him better than anyone else in the world? _The flowers? The dinner he'd cooked before their trip to the beach? The profuse amount of affection he'd poured on her all day?_

Yara knew he wanted something – the last time he'd behaved in such a manner was the day he told her his signing with the WWE meant they'd have to pack up and leave her beloved Montreal for Orlando.

"Spill it, sweetheart."

"Maybe I just wanted to have a romantic evening with my gorgeous wife before I must leave her for five long, lonesome days?" He tried to don his best poker face, but he'd never had one.

"Just tell me what it is, Ram." She reached up and stroked his face, lovingly. "You know I'll do anything for you – just ask, love."

His nervous eyes continued watching her for a long moment, as if he was trying gauge her reaction before he ever spoke. Her elbow nudged him in the side before he decided to open his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry – I know I should have asked you first, but I told Fergal he could stay with us while he recuperates from surgery-" He started on a long ramble about picking the other man up from the airport, apologizing, and explaining that they were Fergal's only option since his family had to fly back to Ireland.

He always rambled when he was nervous or excited, and Yara was used to it. She just nodded thoughtfully, waited for a pause, and then she brought her hand up to caress his face, tenderly.

"It's okay, Rami." She smiled, reassuringly. "If our friend needs help, then it's our duty to be there for him. Otherwise, what are friends for?"

Part of her wanted to laugh at him – that he really thought she'd protest Fergal coming to stay with them for a few months. The truth was, she kind of enjoyed the prospect of having someone else to talk to in the house when Rami was gone all week. She knew he probably felt guilty asking her to do something for him, she'd already done so much to be with him – moving from her hometown in Washington to Montreal and now to Florida, putting her photography aspirations on hold to support his dreams, and many other things she never counted. That was her duty, her obligation, as his wife - to build him up and support him wholeheartedly.

He breathed a sigh of relief before tightening his arms around her, hugging her against the chest. "You're the best, sweetheart, I don't deserve you."

She snuggled into his body and looped her arm across his midsection, breathing in the sweet smells of his body. Listening to the beating of his heart beneath her cheek, she closed her eyes – content to stay right there forever.


End file.
